


Cleansing

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-Purgatory, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"S'ok, Cas. I'm just glad to have you back." Dean doesn't know how to say what he's feeling, that Cas put him together after Hell, that he wants to return the favor, that he was terrified he would never see Cas again, that he doesn't want to let go of him or let him out of sight now that he has him back. He doesn't want to show Cas the depths of what he's feeling, because it's too big, it’s too much.</p><p>Reaching for the soap, Dean rubs it between his hands, working up a lather. He sets the soap aside and runs his hands along Cas's shoulders, working the ground-in grime out and rinsing clean skin underneath. He rinses his hands and picks up Sam's face wash, which he'd never admit to using but he knows feels fresh and cool on filthy skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleansing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to cliffnotesofanerd and deanhugchester for the EXTENSIVE brainstorming, betaing, and inspiration!

Watching Cas as he explains his attempts to reach them after Purgatory, Dean isn't really sure what to think.

Cas is back. He’s here. He’s real. Dean isn’t losing his mind; all those times he thought he saw Cas were real. They were Cas, reaching out.

Dean still hasn’t acclimated to being out of Purgatory, and here’s something new, throwing him off balance again.

He’s glad to have Cas back, of course, but they’ve been through enough that he can’t quite believe that it’s real, that it’s going to last, that there aren’t consequences.

He realizes he’s been sitting, staring at Cas, saying nothing.

And now the angel is standing, saying, “I’m dirty,” eyes exhausted and empty.

“Purgatory will do that to you,” Dean replies, not sure what else to say. It’s true, after all.

The angel looks at him for a moment with those quiet, haunted eyes and walks to the bathroom, shutting the door.

Dean and Sam sit in silence for a few minutes. Dean thinks, tries to get his equilibrium. It’s something that takes more time than it did before Purgatory. Getting back into the habits of the living, of the human, is harder than he thought it would be. Coming home is good, he knows. Being here with Sam, not having to fight to survive, being clean, fed, and rested - all of these are what he wanted, but still, he’s unfocused, overwhelmed. He needs time and space and quiet and action more than he ever has before.

Sam gives his brother a curious stare and then returning to his research. Finally, Dean lets out a huff of air. “He’s been in there a while.” He stares at the bathroom door.

Sam glances at him, curious. “Uh, you wanna go check on him? See if he’s all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.” Dean crosses the room, hesitates, then steels himself and knocks on the door.

No answer.

"Cas? You okay in there, buddy?" Still nothing.

Worried, Dean opens the door and slips inside.

The shower is running, steam filling the small space, but Cas isn't in it.

"Cas?" Dean turns and spots the angel.

Castiel sits on the floor on the bathroom, wedged between the toilet and the sink. His head rests against his knees, face buried in the filthy material of his hospital pants. He looks still and small, long limbs draped limply around himself. The trenchcoat lies in a crumpled heap in the corner.

Dean reaches out, hand hovering over a knee, then pauses. He’s not sure what to do.

He crouches on the floor, eyes on a level with the angel’s.

“Cas, hey,” he puts a tentative hand on Cas’s shoulder.

Cas doesn’t move.

“Cas, you’re freaking me out a little. Look at me, okay?”

Cas lifts his head, eyes finally meeting Dean’s.

They stare for a moment, blue into green.

Finally, Cas speaks.

“I don’t know what to do, Dean.” His dirty face is scruffy, lined, pale. “What do I do?”

The helpless desperation in his eyes is almost palpable. Dean is suddenly reminded of a very different Castiel, a far too human one buried in drugs and women.

He has to keep _his_ Cas, this one here on the bathroom floor before him, from turning into that broken one.

He just wishes he knew how.

“Come on, Cas.” He wraps a hand around the angel’s bicep, urging him to stand. “Let’s get you clean. One step at a time, all right?”

The angel follows his touch, rising. He is quiet, complacent, almost meek. His hollow eyes slide down until he's staring blindly at the floor.

Dean walks him to the toilet and sits him on its lid. Reaching down, he grasps the hem of Cas’s shirt.

“I’m gonna get rid of this so you can rinse off, okay?”

The angel nods slightly, eyes raising to glance at Dean’s face. He lifts his arms as Dean pulls the shirt up, but stays otherwise motionless.

Dean kneels in front of him and lifts one foot, then the other, sliding off his tattered shoes and socks and tossing them aside. Rising, he takes Cas's hands and pulls him to his feet, shuffling them both to the shower.

He pulls back the curtain and turns on the water, keeping one hand on Cas. He’s finding it hard to let go of him, as if the emptiness in the Cas’s eyes will spread the moment Dean takes his eyes off of him and the angel will melt away.

The water is warm, not hot, and Dean turns back to Cas, dropping his hand as he comes back into full view.

Cas is standing exactly as Dean left him, wearing scrub pants and a bewildered expression.

“Dean...” Cas speaks for the first time since Dean found him in the bathroom. “Stay with me?” His voice is low, broken.

Dean can’t help but step closer and lay a comforting hand on Cas’s shoulder once more. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

Cas looks up at him, a tiny bit of light back in his eyes. “Thank you, Dean.” He leans into Dean’s touch, swaying.

“Whoa! You’re wiped out. Let’s get you in the shower, okay?” Dean only hesitates a moment before reaching for Cas’s pants. He pauses as his hands touch the angel’s bare waist, and waits a moment for Cas to give some sign of independent movement. But Cas just closes his eyes.

Dean pulls off the scrubs, bending down to pull them from one leg, then the other, keeping his eyes averted as Cas's body is bared. Cas steps obediently out of his clothes, following Dean's silent instructions.

Dean comes to a decision. Cas is filthy, shivering, and listing with exhaustion. He can barely stand, let alone wash, and Dean knows that he himself will be more comfortable if he stays close to him.

Dean pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his boots. Unbuckling his belt, he lowers his jeans and boxers and steps out. He steps into the shower, pulling Cas under the spray.

Cas follows Dean's grasp, tilting his head into the warm water. Dean feels the angel’s stress-tight muscles melt slightly under the pressure. His face and arms are filthy, his hair matted and as the water runs over him, it drips nearly black on the tub floor. Dean forces himself not to remember the last time Cas dripped black liquid. He shakes his head, dismissing the memory. Cas is here with him, right here, right now.

Cas is still standing, eyes closed, face upturned to the water flowing down. Cas has always loved the water; in Purgatory, he sought out every source and bathed as much as he could in the shallow pools. But in purgatory the water was brackish, bitter, full of silt - it didn't make you clean, just wet and cold, but still Cas persisted.

Dean reaches for the shampoo and steps closer, pooling a generous amount in his hand.

"Cas, I'm gonna help you out here, is that okay?"

Cas leans in, nodding. Dean steps closer, body inches from Cas's, reaches up and buries his hands in the angel's hair. Cas leans closer, inches from Dean. His eyes are closed. Dean massages the shampoo into Cas's scalp, running his fingers along the skin. The lather quickly turns grey, and Dean tilts Cas's head back gently and cups a hand over his forehead, directing the water back and away from the angel's face as he rinses the shampoo out.

Cas reaches up, runs a hand through his clean hair, and looks at Dean intently, eyes focusing for the first time since Dean joined him in the bathroom. "Thank you, Dean. I don't... you don't need to do this for me."

Dean let out a huff. "S'ok, Cas. I'm just glad to have you back." He doesn't know how to say what he's feeling, that Cas put him together after Hell, that he wants to return the favor, that he was terrified he would never see Cas again, that he doesn't want to let go of him or let him out of sight now that he has him back. He doesn't want to show Cas the depths of what he's feeling, because it's too big, it’s too much.

Reaching for the soap, Dean rubs it between his hands, working up a lather. He sets the soap aside and runs his hands along Cas's shoulders, working the ground-in grime out and rinsing clean skin underneath. He rinses his hands and picks up Sam's face wash, which he'd never admit to using but he knows feels fresh and cool on filthy skin. He squeezes out a healthy amount into his fingers.

"Shut your eyes and mouth for me, Cas." The angel complies.

He lifts gentle fingers to Cas' face, smoothing it over his forehead and nose and combing it through his bearded cheeks. It drips grey as Cas's familiar face is revealed.

Without the grey filth, Cas looks younger, stronger. There's a firmness to him that had all but disappeared in this new, quiet Cas.

Dean continues downward, slowly washing Cas's shoulders, chest, stomach, arms. He pays particular attention to the angel's hands, gently rubbing the tension from his palms and scraping the dirt from under his fingernails.

Kneeling, Dean washes down the angel's legs. He lifts one foot, then the other, washing the ankle, top, heel and toes, then running his hand gently down the sole. Cas twitches slightly, and Dean smiles. Giving Cas's ankle a pat, he stands and turns Cas with a hand on his shoulder.

Dean reaches up, grasps Cas's shoulders and slowly turns him around to wash his back. He kneads his fingers into the stiffness, working out dirt and tensions simultaneously. Cas lets out a quiet moan, slumping forward, face resting on his arms against the wall.

Dean pressed closer, wrapping his hands around Cas's shoulders and digging into the clenched muscles. Using his thumbs, he follows Cas's spine up to his skull, burying his fingers in thick hair, then back down to the small of his back. He shies away from going any lower, but drizzles lather down further and watches it drip, carrying away the sweat, blood and mud of the last year.

He pulls away slowly, running his hands gently down the angel's sides to rest for a moment on his hips, then drops them to his sides. Cas stands against the wall, clean and with muscles far more relaxed than before. He is shaking slightly, and when he turns Dean can see tears glittering in his eyes.

"Thank you, Dean." Cas is looking at him with his old intensity, softened by something deeper.

Dean shifts, uncomfortable with Cas' gratitude. His eyes drift closed as he turns his head away.

He doesn't deserve it. Everything Cas has done for him, and he repaid it by leaving him in Purgatory. He should have tried harder, should have held on-

“Dean!” a hand shakes his shoulder. He starts, turns back, meets Cas’s worried gaze. “Are you all right?”

Dean swallows. Cas’s eyes, intent on his face, bore into him and strip away his defenses. He finds he can’t meet them for long; he’s afraid something will burst inside of him and he won’t be able to keep the walls holding everything back.

But now he’s trapped, caught in Cas’ eyes, and he feels something spreading and burning in his chest and his head.

“Cas...” he chokes out, swallowing. “I’m sorry for... shit, for everything. I just want you to know that.”

Cas looks bewildered. “Sorry for what? You have nothing to apologize for, Dean.”

“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I keep letting you down. I just...” he breaks his gaze from Cas’s, finally, and turns his head to stare at the wall. “I couldn’t save you in Purgatory, either.” There was a rushing in his ears, loud enough that he couldn’t hear his own words.

“Dean!” Cas’s sharp voice cut through the white noise. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it. I should have reached out to you while you were with Lisa. I thought you had what you wanted, but what I did destroyed that as well. And,” he swallowed and looked away as well, “I’m the one who let go at the portal.”

Dean’s head whipped around to stare at the angel. “What?”

“I needed to do penance. I needed to pay for my mistakes. Dean, I released monsters on the Earth and nearly destroyed Heaven. I declared myself God and reveled in people’s worship. And all of it was because of my pride and my refusal to ask for help.”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment. "Cas... You did what you thought was the right thing. You paid for that. Shit, Cas, you _died_. You died and then you came back, and then I lost you again and I can't-" he blinked hard, willing the burning in his eyes away. "I can't lose you again. I need you here with me, Cas."

Cas reached out a tentative hand, resting it on Dean's bicep. "I want to be here. And if I can, I will always come back." He stepped closer, just inches from Dean, and put his other hand on Dean's shoulder, where his handprint had been. "Dean, I pulled you out of Hell, and you've saved me in return in many ways. Perhaps... Perhaps we have both paid our debts to each other."

Dean felt wetness fall from his eyes that had nothing to do with the water still running from the shower. Stepping forward, he wrapped both arms around Cas and pulled him close.

Cas tensed for a moment, fists clenching, then relaxed into the hug. Carefully, slowly, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Dean in return.

They stand for a moment, holding tight to each other, Dean's arms around Cas's shoulders, Cas's face buried in Dean's neck.

A knock sounds on the door. Sam's voice, muffled by wood and water, is still clear as he calls out, "guys? Everything okay?"

Dean clears his throat. "Yeah, Sam. Be out in a minute." He pulls away reluctantly and reaches to turn off the water, then faces Cas once again. "You're gonna be okay, all right? We're gonna stick together and figure stuff out."

Cas doesn't reply, but his eyes are bright. He pulls back the curtain and steps out, taking a towel and handing another to Dean, who takes it and dries off. When he glances back at the angel, Cas is holding a disposable razor in one hand and a can of shaving cream in the other. He lets out a huff of breath and looks up at Dean, face resolving into a familiar expression of frustration.

Dean smiles.

They aren't _okay_. They’re not even close to it. But for the first time in a while, he thinks they might be.

Someday.

 


End file.
